


I Can Wait

by Frenemies to Lovers (divinespook)



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Missing Scene, POV Cardan Greenbriar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divinespook/pseuds/Frenemies%20to%20Lovers
Summary: I hadn’t expected to be so overwhelmed by seeing her storming around the gardens, full of fire.  But after haunting the royal chambers for days and seeing nothing but her too-still unconscious body and her occasional restless dreams, being slapped felt like a relief——A short Cardan POV in which we find out where he slept while Jude was recovering during QoN. Also, a conversation between Cardan and the Bomb, who absolutely knows exactly what is going on.
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Comments: 24
Kudos: 142





	I Can Wait

Having delivered The Ghost into the Bomb’s custody, and having confirmed with my guard that the Queen has retired to the royal rooms, I find myself settling at the head of the enormous strategy table with a pot of tea. . . and a goblet of wine. I had hoped to bring Jude to see the strategy room, along with the rest of the new Court of Shadows, but there hadn’t been time. Of course Jude would immediately redirect every half-formed plan of mine from the moment she had been up and walking again. It’s what she does best, taking the reins and steering my life in whichever direction she deems fit.

I hadn’t thought I could have been more relieved to see her getting herself entangled in the middle of court politics than I had been when she snuck into my chambers and, without so much as a hello, launched into plans to thwart Balekin and Orlagh after having been returned from the Undersea. But seeing her up and in the middle of court business again today, after having seen her wounded and bleeding and so near to death, was its own kind of magic. I feel like I am able to let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding for quite so long.

  
I take a sip of wine and press my hand to my face where she slapped me. There’s no visible wound anymore, but it is still a little tender to the touch. A physical reminder that it had actually happened, that she is awake and alive and feeling enough like herself to be angry at me. I hadn’t expected to be so overwhelmed by seeing her storming around the gardens, full of fire. But after haunting the royal chambers for days and seeing nothing but her too-still unconscious body and her occasional restless dreams, being slapped felt like a relief.

  
I know she doesn’t trust me, and that she may not trust me for a very, very long time. But she hadn’t pulled away when I reached for her hand. I try not to think too hard about the way it felt to have her walk through the halls by my side, as my queen. And as I take another long sip of wine, I try very hard not to think too much about her sleeping in my bed.

  
After some time, The Bomb comes in and takes a seat, her chair pulled far enough back that she can prop her feet on the table. She gives me a knowing look from the corner of her eye.

  
“Are you sleeping in the spymaster’s quarters again tonight? There’s a whole palace that belongs to you, you know. And some royal rooms that, although they are very well guarded, I think you could manage to sneak into,” she suggests, not facing me but giving me a sly smile nonetheless.

  
“Just because she is my wife doesn’t mean she wants me sneaking into her room. . .”

  
“Your room,” she cuts me off with a wink. Did I really just refer to the royal chambers as Jude’s room?

  
“The room where she’s sleeping,” I amend. “And... bothering her. Especially while she’s still healing from a sword fight with her redcap father. And then a subsequent fall from the rafters during an ill-conceived plan that was meant to protect me.”

  
“You two need to talk,” she sighs, exasperated.

  
I like that she speaks to me this way. Having been first Dain’s spy, and then Jude’s, she does not speak to me as a courtier would. I usually like her lack of deference, but her current directness has reminded me of everything Jude and I did discuss today. And how suspicious Jude may always be of my intentions. Deservedly so.

  
“We did talk,” I say sullenly, and realize that my wine is gone. Reminding myself that no good has ever come of allowing myself to indulge too much, I start on the tea. I wish I enjoyed it as much as the wine. “She is angry with me. And I can’t say I blame her. And did I mention the part where she nearly died. . . very recently?”

  
The Bomb is still looking at me expectantly. She is a good spy. Observant. I assume she had noticed my worry and my pining during the time Jude was prisoner in the Undersea. Even if she hadn’t, she had been the first person to find me after Jude, pretending to be Taryn, had been taken by Madoc. She had seen all of my panic. My rage. My desperation. It would have been obvious to anyone at that point, but my feelings for Jude were especially obvious to The Bomb. Especially after I had consulted with her over and over about the kinds of things she thought Jude might want to include in the new Court of Shadows. Especially after I had sent her off to assist Jude rather than remain with me while I was actively dying from Balekin’s poisoning.

  
The silence stretches on. And on.

  
“You can stop looking at me like that. I am not sneaking off to press my luck with Jude while she is both injured and angry. Perhaps she will decide that ruling Elfhame alone is preferable to having to rule by my side. She is more than capable of killing me with her bare hands, and I have given her good reason to do so. I’m not certain I’m ready to provide her with the opportunity.” I might not mind her hands around my throat, but I’m trying to prioritize making her place as Queen feel secure over any of my ill-conceived desires. As potent as those desires may be.

  
The Bomb sighs as she drops her feet from the table. “Very well, Your Majesty. I have done all I can to speed Her Majesty’s healing. She did seem more recovered today than I expected -- especially for a mortal.”

  
I think I want everyone to refer to Jude as Her Majesty at all times in my presence. I like the way it sounds.

  
“I am certain we will all be relieved when our true spymaster is back in charge,” I manage to say in response.

  
She makes her way to leave, but pauses at the door. “I have heard that Grima Mog knows a bit about healing elixirs -- a handy thing to know when you spend much of your time in battle. Although no one can help with Jude being angry, perhaps she can be of assistance with her recovery.”

  
With that, she leaves me to my thoughts and my tea.

  
I stay for a long time, finishing the pot of tea and trying to unravel my thoughts, wondering how I can prove to Jude that I never wish for her to fear cruelty from me again. No answers come other than that she will need time to heal from the blows I have dealt as surely as she needs time to heal from her physical injuries. If I am lucky, she will recover swiftly from both. If not, I will wait. I can wait for her to be ready to forgive me.

  
I eventually leave the Court of Shadows and retire to the adjoining rooms, which the Bomb refers to as the spymaster’s chambers. I had them prepared for Jude, should she choose not to reside in the royal rooms. I had tried but could not find a way to connect her existing rooms to the new Court of Shadows.  
  
I stretch out on one side of the bed, picturing Jude in the space next to me. I remember the way we had tangled together in our exhaustion after exchanging our vows, lying together in the bed where she now sleeps. I close my eyes and remember her head on my shoulder, her hand resting lightly on my chest. Did she trust me then, only for me to ruin it?

  
To be fair, she had just murdered my brother and conveniently not deigned to mention it.

  
I try to shove the uncomfortable thoughts away and get back to the memory of waking with her in my arms. But in my mind all I can see is the look in her eyes when she had slapped me, all fury and indignation. The look on her face when she told me she feared what I would do to her next. The way I could practically see her mind flitting through every unkind thing I had ever done to her. I find that, although they are not particularly comforting images, I am glad they have replaced the visions that have plagued me for days: her body plummeting from the rafters, her body in a pool of her own blood, her body lying motionless in my bed as I uselessly try to clean the blood from her hands.

  
I fall asleep still touching the sore spot on my cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written fan fiction in over a decade. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I hope you enjoyed this little brain dump of a Cardan POV scene.


End file.
